


they published your diary, and that's how i got to know you

by tunemyart



Series: someone will remember us, i say, even in another time [4]
Category: Xena: Warrior Princess
Genre: F/F, and Janice/Mel's awareness of it, past Gabrielle/Xena
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-30
Updated: 2019-11-30
Packaged: 2021-02-18 12:03:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,347
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21610603
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tunemyart/pseuds/tunemyart
Summary: “It’s just - now that we’ve got so many of the scrolls - now that I’ve had the time to really spend with them - it’s like Gabrielle’s right there, just on the other side of the papyrus. She held those scrolls in her own hands. She carried them around with her. That’s her handwriting, and ink from her quill. She’s so real, Janice.” Mel chanced a look at her, and when saw Janice looking intently back in an attempt to understand, she shook her head ruefully. “I’m not doing a good job explaining.”Two years after "The Xena Scrolls", Mel and Janice steal a final moment in 1940's Greece.
Relationships: Janice Covington/Melinda Pappas
Series: someone will remember us, i say, even in another time [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1194579
Comments: 15
Kudos: 52





	they published your diary, and that's how i got to know you

“Taking a break?” 

From where she had been sitting with her eyes closed against the overwhelming brilliance of the Macedonian sunset, Mel craned her head up and squinted at the silhouette of the interloper. 

“You’re late,” she chastised her.

Janice dropped down next to her gracelessly, grimacing at Mel’s tone as she pulled out a flask of whiskey. She took a long swig before offering it silently to Mel, who accepted it and took a swig of her own, feeling the burn in her chest and the rush in her head that had become as familiar to her as the rolling hills and hardscrabble bushes around them.

“Seems to me like I’m right on time,” Janice remarked. “Look at those colors. Won’t see skies like that back in the States.”

“No, we sure won’t,” Mel agreed softly. “Two years of ‘em is almost an embarrassment of riches as it is.”

Janice chuckled. “An embarrassment, huh? We gotta get you to a place where you appreciate a little plundering.” 

“I think you’ve managed pretty well so far.” 

“Hmm,” Janice said, noncommittal, and stole a glance at Mel. “Still, better keep working on it.” 

“Oh, I’m sure you will,” Mel murmured.

Because of the urgency surrounding their plans to leave, neither of them had anything more than tentative plans regarding what they’d do once they got back to the States; but still, Mel had a hard time envisioning a future that Janice wasn’t a part of anymore. She had no doubt one or the other of them would find a way to continue the work as best as they could an entire world away from where they’d found their home, itinerant as that home was. 

Not that either of them wanted to leave, of course, but while the Italian invasion had already made things dicey enough as it was, but there was no arguing with the Nazis bearing down on them. Of course Janice, being Janice, had tried; and in lieu of the Nazis who thankfully weren’t here yet for her to take matters up with, Mel had been the one to finally convince her that they had no choice.

And so, after two years in Macedonia together, this was where it ended: here where it all began, in Amphipolis. 

“Do you ever feel like out here, it’s all so close - closer than ever - but so far away all at the same time?” Mel asked. 

Janice bumped Mel’s shoulder. “Aw, Mel. We’ll get back here someday. I hate it, but you’re right.”

“Yeah,” Mel said gloomily. “I hate it, too. For what it’s worth.”

“Yeah,” Janice agreed. “I know.” She fidgeted, uncomfortable as ever with emotions. “Hey Mel, I’m thinking since it’s our last night and all, a celebratory cigar - ”

“ _Ja_ _nice,”_ Mel said, because Janice knew full well that Mel could not abide cigar smoke, and especially not during these moments.

“Fine,” Janice snapped, but without malice, and sure enough immediately gentled. “Sorry. Guess I’m just stressed. You all packed and ready to head out? Need anything?”

Mel shook her head. “No. I’m ready as I’ll be, I expect.” 

“Something bothering you apart from the obvious?” 

Damn Janice’s newfound perception when it came to her. Mel never would have had this problem with her even a year ago. 

“It’s hard to explain,” she hedged.

But Janice’s expression was surprisingly open when she replied, “Try me,” and Mel thought she might as well.

“It’s about the scrolls.”

Instantly Janice was alert. “What do you mean? Did something happen with packing? Is there a problem with transport? I _knew_ my contact with - “

“They’re fine,” Mel stopped her before she got a chance to really get herself worked up, chastising herself for her own carelessness in her words as she did. “What I’m talking about is more of a… shall we say, theoretical nature.”

Janice relaxed next to her slowly, though obviously still on guard for some shoe to drop somewhere in Mel’s next words. “Alright. What do you mean?” 

“It’s just - you and I know that these were real women, right?” Mel began. “But with all the in-between time, when we’re bogged down with the business of actually having to get funding and set up the digs and deal with finding things that _aren’t_ the scrolls, not to mention running from the authorities and Nazis and what have you - “

“Hey! I was under the impression that you liked all that business,” Janice said, wounded. 

“I _do,_ ” Mel said, rolling her eyes. “But that’s not the point, if you’d just listen. I know you get it, the same as me. When you’re holding some artifact that somebody crafted three thousand years ago, you feel a connection to them. Like a window to a whole ‘nother world has just materialized, just big enough to let in the daylight and for somebody to stick their hand through for you to grasp onto.” 

“I know it,” Janice agreed solemnly. Mel hadn’t expected otherwise. This out here was the closest she suspected Janice would ever come to true religion.

“It’s just - now that we’ve got so many of the scrolls - now that I’ve had the time to really spend with them - it’s like Gabrielle’s right there, just on the other side of the papyrus. She held those scrolls in her own hands. She carried them around with her. That’s her handwriting, and ink from her quill. She’s so _real,_ Janice.” Mel chanced a look at her, and when saw Janice looking intently back in an attempt to understand, she shook her head ruefully. “I’m not doing a good job explaining.”

“No, no, you are,” Janice hastened to assure her. “You’re right, I get it. I know how you feel.”

It was a nice sentiment, if not entirely convincing; but it spoke a lot as to how far they’d come that Janice would now lie not only to preserve Mel’s feelings, but to keep her talking. It made Mel’s chest glow with some warmth that was separate from the whiskey and pulled the corners of her lips up into a tiny smile. 

“She’s got a real personality that she expressed through her writing, you know,” she continued after a moment of quiet. “And she had definite themes she was trying to get across when you look at the body of her work as a whole.”

Janice’s brow furrowed. “Those themes are upsetting?” 

“No, not per se,” Mel said. “She’s funny, and a good writer _._ But that’s also not the point.”

“I bet you’re gonna get to that point,” Janice prompted when Mel, once again, let her sudden nervousness get the better of her voice. 

“It’s - “ Mel started again, only to immediately break off again. “All I can think lately is that it’s like the beloved disciple in the gospel of John. Not,” she hastened to add, “that I think the religious connotations are the same, just the function of the author as the beloved.”

Nevertheless, Janice snorted. “You know recent scholarship thinks that’s all a lot of crap, anyway?”

“Yes, I know, Janice Covington,” Mel snapped. “All I’m saying is - that’s how Gabrielle is casting herself in her own work. A character framed in context of the way that Xena loved her. When at the same time, it’s clear that the scrolls themselves were a labor of her own love for Xena.” 

Janice’s expression took on a warier cast, as if steeling herself for wherever Mel was going with this. “And _that’s_ upsetting?”

Mel scowled more deeply. “No,” she denied again, the frustration in her voice plain. “It’s beautiful. My God, Janice, it’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever read, regardless of whether or not all of it’s true. Even if they’re just metaphors - even if they’re just evidence of the mystery cults’ influence on what kind of stories got told, or in what way - ”

Silence fell again; and Janice, who had by now learned how to wait for Mel, did so. 

“Janice, I don’t know if the world is ready for these scrolls,” Mel finally admitted. “They’re so important for so many reasons, and I think the world is gonna laugh ‘em right out of history all over again.”

Janice didn’t ask a third time if this was what was upsetting her, for which Mel was thankful. Instead, she took Mel’s hand, a tentative gesture if only for its newness and the way Janice normally eschewed any kind of casual physical intimacy that Mel might initiate. “They might,” she said as if it wasn’t a revelation to her at all, as if she’d been anticipating that very conclusion to all of this, their own labor. 

“That doesn’t bother you?” 

“You’re talking to someone who’s believed in the scrolls her entire life,” Janice said with a lopsided grin. “I don’t think anything can hold ‘em down forever. They’ve lasted this long, for over two thousand years. The world’ll wait a little more if it has to.”

“I don’t want the world to wait.” Mel was aware that her heartbeat had ticked up, her eyes had gone all teary, her face gone flushed and defiant. “Janice, I want - “

But she couldn’t articulate it: words had failed her for once, crowding all in her mind so that not a one of them could get out. But Janice - bless her - finally seemed to understand. Her face had gone tender and smooth, until she looked so much younger than her age and experience: just a slip of a girl, though Mel would never dare give voice to that thought. Some dormant part of her was filled with longing so keen that her chest hurt, hereditary memories superimposing themselves over this moment until Mel was tangled up beyond repair and couldn’t have truthfully said which woman she was or which woman she wanted, Gabrielle emerging with sudden focus in Janice’s face, realer than ever, close enough to touch if she simply reached out - 

But it was Janice who rose up on her knees, her free hand rising to tuck back some of Mel’s dark hair that had escaped her long braid and falling to cradle her cheek. 

“Oh, Mel,” she said as her lips pressed to Mel’s other cheek, “Mel,” she repeated as she kissed her forehead, and then, finally, softly, her lips. Mel’s hand reached out, grasping, and found Janice’s other hand as if it had been reaching for her too, and held on.

“I know,” Janice said when they separated. “The world isn’t ready - you’re right about that, too. Won’t you stop that?” It earned her a slightly hysterical chuckle from Mel, which Janice echoed gratefully before she squeezed Mel’s hand again and leaned herself against Mel’s taller body. “All it means is we’ve gotta make it ready. Mel, we’ve at least gotta _try._ ”

“Guess you’re right about one thing this week, at least,” Mel said in reply, pleased to feel Janice’s smirk against her arm. 

“Don’t be sad,” Janice said after a long moment of silence. “The world’s starting to get itself ready, at least. It sent you out here.” _Out here to me,_ she meant, _out here to this work, our work, and what it means to both of us_.

It was a touching enough sentiment that Mel couldn’t help bemusedly looking down at her, and she was eventually met with her more familiar, defensive scowl. The earlier confusion had faded, and just as Mel was now grounded in her own self and body and soul, there was no mistaking Janice for anything other than what she was. 

“What?” 

It was her own fault for chasing away the openness of the moment. Mel resolved to do better about that in the future, assuming the future held more moments like this one. 

“Just wonderin’ who you were and what you did with Janice Covington for a minute there,” Mel responded lightly, and got a smack on the arm for it. But Mel softened against her, and could feel Janice respond to it. “Thanks,” Mel said. 

“Anytime, darlin’,” Janice said in her best attempt at a Carolinian drawl. Mel rolled her eyes. “You about ready to turn in? Long day tomorrow. We can use all the sleep we can get.” 

She said it as if it were the close of any other day, the familiarity of the land and its secrets waiting for them to discover them in the morning, or the day or week or month after. It would have befuddled Mel two years ago, but now she recognized it for the protection she was raising over the imminent ache of separation and uncertainty that the morning would bring. 

Maybe Janice’s desire to leave before she left was also a preemptive strike, but Mel found she had no desire to do the same. The sun had slipped under the horizon without their realizing a few minutes earlier, making the world around them disappear further and further into a congealing shadow as the brilliancy of the sunset followed its source under the earth. Who knew what would be left if - when - they came back? Who knew where the boundaries of all the ephemeral nations would fall when all of this was over? Countries, languages, cultures - everything was so transient; but the earth had a long memory. She knew that better than most. Given enough time, someone would always come to turn the earth fresh. 

“Let’s just stay another few minutes,” she said softly. 

Janice wanted to protest, she could feel her gearing up to do so, but driven by an urge she couldn’t name, Mel seized her hand and intertwined their fingers, letting them come to rest palm to palm against her thigh. Something about the world clicked into place at that, and they both stilled. 

Here in the fading light was a beginning. Maybe it was her emotions playing havoc with the tangible reality of this place where she and Janice sat against the world, but Mel could only think that it had to unfold in just this way. That somehow it was meant to. 

“A few more minutes,” Janice finally conceded; and for now, it was enough.

**Author's Note:**

> This is it for this series, my friends. <3


End file.
